


long night moon

by KDblack



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Canon Mute Character, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:48:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22415017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KDblack/pseuds/KDblack
Summary: Zealotry and pragmatism are not irreconcilable. The moon's child walks the streets of Ionia, searching for a woman who will not be found. The boss takes notice.
Relationships: Aphelios/Sett (League of Legends)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 143





	long night moon

**Author's Note:**

> What even is world-building.

Chalk it up to skill or instinct, but Sett always knew when Aphelios had drifted back into town. Shadows deepened. The moon stayed up longer. A new chill made itself at home in the air. Other folks noticed the symptoms from time to time – hard not to, when you could suddenly see your breath on Ionian summer nights – but Sett had yet to find the person who could put the pieces together. Hell if he knew why. The connection was obvious.

Unseasonable cold made people cluster. Shadows made them nervous. Result: a crowd desperate for something to take their minds off the irrational fear of things lurking in the night. It was good for business. Maybe that was why Aphelios always waited a few days before showing his face – to make sure Sett was in a good mood.

If that was the case, he shouldn't bother waiting. Sett loved having him in the ring. Local boys were the foundation of the pits, but outside blood brought them to life. People needed to see something new every now and again. Hard to get more outside than Mt. Targon, and there was nothing like Aphelios. Itinerant brawler who appeared and disappeared with the moon, marksman who changed weapons like the tide, graceful killer whose guns would pick any challenger to pieces and leave them shattered, but still breathing. It made for one hell of a show.

The second day after the drifter's arrival, Sett told his ma he'd be working late. It wasn't a lie – there was always more paper to sift through in his office. Every business with the slightest veneer of legality had to deal with records of payment, negotiations, and correspondence. Some things were too sensitive to show off – those, he'd locked up tight the second he'd noticed the chill. That still left plenty of busywork and contract negotiations to go through. He kept one eye on the window while he worked. Even so, he missed the precise moment Aphelios slipped into the room.

He was a skinny little thing. Tiny, too – Sett could lift him with one hand. But there was something unsettling about him. Moon-silvered skin. Eyes black like night. Movements just a bit too smooth. Whatever was up with him, it wasn't Vastaya. Not void, either. Something else. Looking at the pretty creature standing quietly across the room, beside the window, Sett found he didn't particularly care. 

“'bout time you showed up.”

Inky locks shifted as Aphelios inclined his head silently. The first time they'd met, he'd spoken aloud, in a voice roughened from lack of use. Every time since, he'd been mute. Drugs or throat trauma. Either way, it wasn't an issue. Sett had worked around worse barriers for fighters with half the skill.

He leaned back in his chair and poured himself another glass. “Back already?”

A shallow nod.

“Last lead didn't pan out, huh? That's a shame.” The real shame, in Sett's opinion, was that Aphelios kept his gaze low, black eyes on the floor. That mask of submission didn't suit him. “You'll be looking for more information, then?”

Another nod.

Sett allowed himself to smile. “Same terms as usual? Or are you ready to renegotiate?”

Silence and thought. After a moment, Aphelios tilted his head in question. With clumsy fingers, he signed _contract?_

Huh. When had he started picking up Ionian sign?

“Nah,” Sett assured him. “Made your position clear there. You change your mind, I'll snap you up in a heartbeat, but I'm not waiting on you signing up permanently. This is... something else.”

Judging by the bland curiosity on his face, the suggestive pause had flown right over Aphelios' pretty head. Was he just being dense or genuinely ignorant? Sett hoped it was the former. He was no expert on Targonians, but he'd assumed they knew beauty when they saw it.

Hopefully, this was simple obliviousness. It was an ordeal to train self-confidence into someone who'd been conditioned to view themselves as ugly or worthless. Sett would know. He'd run that gauntlet himself. But that was an avenue he had no interest in walking down this evening. He banished the thought with a slight shake of his head and let his smile turn hungry.

“There's a place for you in the ring, usual rates–” Aphelios won, making sure the house came out ahead in the betting pools, and Sett leaned on the underworld until he came up with something about the woman with the moon on her face. “–but you've been a trustworthy partner, and it must be inconvenient to spend so much time on the move.” Sett leaned forward. Enough to convey eagerness, not enough to be a threat. “So how's about we make it official? Don't gotta work for me to link your name with mine. No need to spread it around, either,” he added as slim fingers began flickering through the sign for _too-visible._

So much of Ionian sign language revolved around war now. One more thing to thank Noxus for.

For the first time since he'd appeared, Aphelios lifted his eyes. Sett hadn't often had the privilege of meeting that gaze – their height difference was too much, and for a marksman, Aphelios had a prominent dislike of looking at peoples' faces. This was a rare event. As always, it took Sett's breath away.

There was a certain quality to zealotry that bled through. That much love couldn't be contained in flesh. It leaked out every chance it got. Pitch black irises roiled with something unbridled, unhinged, unnameable, deep and maddening as the sea. If he had pupils, Sett couldn't find them. There was nothing in those eyes but night and nameless devotion.

Who or whatever received Aphelios' worship, they were unspeakably lucky. If he could, Sett would happily punch their teeth in.

 _Advantage,_ Aphelios signed, still staring at Sett.

“Well, for starters, you won't need to rack up wins in the pit to get last week's news. If I found something while you were out, I'll share it the moment you get back. You'll still be fighting, but I'll get you a more flexible schedule, and if you get yourself hurt I'll take care of it. You need to lay low for a while? I've got safehouses. Someone on your tail? I'll take care of it. And if your travels bring you somewhere I've got roots, I can ease the doors open. Sound good?”

A long, slow blink. _Unjust._

Huh? The hell was that – oh. Sett felt like chuckling. He'd misread that one. Not _unjust_ – _uneven._ “Worrying about me? Aren't you a sweet thing!”

Aphelios twitched and dropped his eyes again, but not before Sett spotted a dusting of red on his cheeks. The splash of colour made him look – not human, exactly, but alive. Someone, instead of something.

“I appreciate the thought, but you got nothing to worry about. Way I see it, you've been doing more'n your fair share since we made this little agreement. No losses, no ego, no strings? You're a dream, and I'm getting sick of taking advantage. Brought this up to balance the books.”

That dark head stayed low. Didn't matter. Sett could hear the gears turning inside it. He couldn't claim to know everything that went on behind Aphelios's bottomless eyes, but he knew enough. The woman with the moon on her face had been missing for years. Aphelios had been searching almost as long. Devotion could only fuel a man so far. And Sett had been good to him.

Zealotry and pragmatism weren't irreconcilable. More than that, Aphelios was weak to kindness. So, when those fingers moved again, Sett already knew their answer.

“Good choice,” he said, letting his eyes play over the man who was now one step closer to becoming his. “I'll take good care of you.”


End file.
